


Missing Scene. The Curse

by sg_wonderland



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s04e13 The Curse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8189212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: Jack and Daniel talk fishing. And the one that got away.





	

We knew. We both knew as soon as we heard the unmistakable sound of tires on the gravel drive. I remember, with a sick feeling, one of the last things I had told the general. That he’d better not contact me unless someone was bleeding. So when we heard the car, we both knew who that someone was.

Moving faster than either Teal’c or I thought possible, we hit the door nearly simultaneously, to be greeted by the seriously serious face of Major Paul Davis. I hold up my hand, my breath catching in my throat. “Just tell me that he’s not badly hurt.”

He doesn’t even have to ask how I knew it was Daniel. “Dr. Jackson is in stable condition. You have time to pack, Colonel O’Neill.”

“What happened?”

“We’ll talk on the plane.” Euphemism for ‘our driver doesn’t have clearance.’

 

*

After Major Davis’s explanation, I dig in my bag, search for Tylenol, aspirin, anything to relieve the headache. I figure it’s a combination of rage, relief and overwhelming guilt. Realistically, I know that whether I had left the batteries in the phone or not, I probably couldn’t have prevented what happened to Daniel. I could have, however, kept in contact; I knew Daniel was weary with grief and past hurts when he left for Chicago.

Two murders, Isis jars, old girlfriends, new Goa’ulds. This could only happen to Daniel, I think as I throw back the pills, who else could get in this much trouble at a funeral?

I force myself to relax as we fly back to Colorado, knowing that they are en route from Germany, and we’ll be home before he gets there. Dr. Fraiser got Steven Raynor stabilized and transported to the Army hospital in Germany, where Daniel flatly refused to be admitted. 

As reported by Carter, he dug his heels in and he and the doc had one hell of a fight in which he told her she’d have to sedate him to keep him there and she threatened to do just that. Whereupon Daniel told her he was bigger than her and would, and I believe this was verbatim, ‘kick her ass’. Fraiser is a smart woman and she finally acknowledged defeat and got the general to send transport for everyone’s favorite member of SG1.

*

So here Teal’c and I are, idling away in Daniel’s office waiting to hear that they have arrived on the mountain. The last word we had from Fraiser when they transferred to a chopper was that Daniel was now seriously miserable with migraine-like symptoms. All the headache and vomiting and world-spinning stuff. I am, therefore, not surprised when I get the call that they sent a gurney up for the little whipped pup.

We are up top as the chopper touches down. Carter jumps out first and gives me a smile that lets me know he’s okay. Teal’c is right there to help Daniel out of the chopper and gently load him on to the gurney.

“Teal’c?’ His voice is a raspy whisper. I wince as I realize this is probably the result of being sick repeatedly.

“Yes, Daniel Jackson?”

“Do me a favor?” At this point, the big guy would agree to anything, and tells Daniel so. “Shoot me. Please.”

“Daniel Jackson, I will not.”

“Come on, man, if you loved me, you would. Just put me out of my misery. Sam’s too chicken.”

We all head for the elevator and Carter shrugs at my expression.

“How long’s he been like that?”

“He tried to get me to shoot him somewhere over Massachusetts, sir. Begged for a grenade when we stopped in Chicago. Asked the pilot to crash the plane over Kansas, I think it was. Been going downhill ever since.”

“Daniel?” His face has a decidedly green tinge.

“Go away.” For someone reputed to be somewhat delirious, he articulates well.

“Daniel, it’s me. Jack.”

“Go far away.” Still quite articulate.

“I believe Dr. Jackson has seen the error of his way, Colonel. I did warn him that flying in his condition would only make matters worse. Didn’t I, Dr. Jackson?” Fraiser just has to inject that note of smug righteousness into her voice that was guaranteed to piss off even the most nauseous patients.

“Teal’c?”

His voice is the model of patience. “Yes, Daniel Jackson?”

“Shoot her instead.”

 

*

The arrival of the boomerang-like Daniel Jackson is greeted with heavy sighs in the infirmary.

“Lower the lights, please.” Fraiser’s voice is authoritative; I don’t hear that softness that develops when she’s treating Daniel.

“Janet?” His voice is quiet now, heavy; his previous attitude nowhere to be found. As soon as the mountain embraced him, he simply wilted. He looks like a child now, small and sad and sick curled on his side there on that bed.

“Yes, Daniel?”

“I’m sorry for what I said, I don’t really want Teal’c to shoot you.” His voice trembles just a bit. If this penitence is false, it’s a helluva show. I think he’s just run out of steam and is so very glad to be home.

“I know, Daniel.” She looks up and finally realizes she has quite an audience. “Out, the lot of you. Now.” Daniel whimpers in pain as she raises her voice; she soothes him with a cool, wet cloth on his forehead, whispers softly. “Shh. Just close your eyes, Daniel, I’m giving you something to make you feel better. And then you’re going to be a good boy and take a nice long nap for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Janet.” He is uncharacteristically docile. 

She quirks her brow at us as the needle slides into his IV. “Don’t make me tell you twice. Or I’ll find needles for the rest of you.” She turns back to her patient, strokes his face. “Go to sleep, Daniel.” He gives a heartfelt sigh as he slips away.

#

I quiz Carter as we enter the briefing room. “Ok, let me get this straight. Osiris, used to be Sarah, tried to get Daniel to talk and he, what, taunted her?”

“Technically, sir, you should refer to Osiris as a him.” I scowled at her and she went on. “I believe taunt would be the correct term, sir. He told her we had killed Ra and Seth and several other Goa’ulds. And apparently she didn’t take it too well when he refused to tell her where Isis was or that he had the Isis jar. She also didn’t like it when he informed her that none of us would be worshiping her any time soon.”

I didn’t point out to Carter that she was calling Osiris a she, too. I don’t know what it is with Daniel and the she-Goa’ulds, they are drawn to him almost against their will, certainly against his. If they’re not trying to fry his brain, they’re trying to have his babies. And does he give any of them the time of day? Not in a nice way, that’s for sure.

If Goa’uld baiting were an Olympic sport, Daniel would have several gold medals by this time. He just can’t keep his mouth shut. Ra, Apophis, Heru’ur. He can’t let any of them get the last word.

Fraiser comes in and I perk up, hoping she’s the bearer of glad tidings.

“The ribbon device triggered a severe migraine, as it often does for Daniel. But with medication and rest, he should be as good as new. He’s dehydrated and exhausted, obviously. Not surprising, since in the past couple of days, he’s flown from here to Chicago. Twice. Spent some time in a police station. Flown to Egypt, fought with a Goa’uld..”

“Back up. Police station?” I’m positive Davis hadn’t mentioned this.

“Steven Raynor insinuated to the police that Dr. Jackson was responsible for the deaths of the museum curator and the lab technician. Fortunately, Dr. Jackson used his one phone call on me. I got hold of Major Davis, who flew out immediately to see that Dr. Jackson got released promptly.”

I squirm, because I know that phone call to Hammond should have been mine. Would have been mine if I hadn’t gotten childish and pissy. Daniel knows this, I hope. That should have been me in that Chicago police station, throwing my weight around for him. “So he’s gonna be okay?”

“Yes, Colonel, he’s not going to be very comfortable for this next couple of days, what with the headache and the nausea. But I see no reason why he won’t recover fully. Physically. As for the emotional toll, I can only guess how he’ll react to having yet another person he cares for be taken as a host.”

And that’s what we’re all most afraid of, the emotional toll. Daniel always seems to bounce back but, realistically, how many times can anyone be expected to face tragedy after tragedy before they simply break?

 

*

Fraiser wouldn’t let me back into the infirmary but agreed to call me when he woke up. So here I am in my office, trying not to completely waste time by doing paperwork. This is one of the things they don’t show in those soaring-into-space Air Force commercials. The military does not run on soldiers or their stomachs or whatever they tell you. No, paper is what pushes them. And these days it’s all virtual. 

Carter and Daniel easily run rings around Teal’c and me in just about every category and especially this one. Even now they can get all excited when some new software or something comes along that supposedly will make their lives easier. 

But more often than not, it just results in them spending even more time with their noses pressed firmly up against the screen. I keep telling them they’re gonna ruin their eyes, Daniel especially. He just looks at me over the top of his glasses with that sweetly patient look that says he knows I’m an idiot but he will put up with me for some unknown reason. Must be my charming personality.

So I gladly abandon my alleged work when I get the call and I hurry to the infirmary, more worried about Daniel than I’m willing to let on.

I pin a smile on when I see him lying there; his face is no longer green. Not that pasty white is much better. And don’t even mention those god-awful bruises on his neck or the burn on his forehead. “Hey, Daniel. What’s up?” I pull up a chair, straddle it.

“Not much. You? How was Minnesota?”

Okay, I can play this game. “Good.”

“Catch anything?”

“Nah. Teal’c got some nice bites, though.”

“Really?”

“Mosquito.”

“Ah.”

“So, Chicago?”

“So-so. Hooked a big one, couldn’t land it, though.”

“It happens. So, wrong bait? Line not strong enough? Rod too short?”

He laughs despite himself. And quickly sobers up. “Jack.”

Game time is now over. “Daniel, there wasn’t anything else you could have done.”

“In my mind I know that she had already been....taken before I ever got there. Two days, Jack. I spent two days with a Goa’uld and didn’t even know it.” He shivers.

“You spent two days with Sarah. Some of the host remains, Daniel, you of all people should know that. Osiris knew the only way to get what she wanted was you, so she gave you Sarah.”

“There in the tomb? I played it all wrong, Jack. Despite all that you and Teal’c have tried to teach me, I couldn’t look past the host. I could only see Sarah. I wasn’t fast enough or smart enough or brave enough to stop Osiris.”

“From what Carter and Fraiser tell me, you put up a pretty good fight.” 

“I kept telling myself it was Steven. All the way to Egypt, part of me knew it was possible it was Sarah, but I couldn’t admit it. Jack, I wanted it to be Steven, so...”

“So it wouldn’t be her? I get that, Daniel.”

He nods sadly, finally meeting my eyes. “I kept seeing her, instead of Sarah.”

My hand just naturally goes to that disheveled hair. “I get that, too. You’re never gonna forget Sha’re and telling yourself that it was all in the past and you ought to be over it by now does not make it any less painful.” 

I feel his touch softly on my arm. “I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t mean...”

 

“It’s okay, Daniel. And I am not gonna sit here and tell you that we’re gonna save Sarah. I won’t do that to you again. But I promise you we will try. Okay?”

“Okay.” We sit in silence for so long that I wonder if he’s fallen asleep. Hoping he has. “Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“They took me to the police station.” His eyes keep sliding shut; I’m betting he still has a serious headache.

“I know, Daniel, and I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“I should have been there. You know I would have come and dragged your ass out of that jail cell?”

“They....they didn’t actually put me in a cell. Just a room where they asked me a lot of questions I couldn’t answer. I just don’t understand Steven,” he says abruptly.

Daniel doesn’t really get jealousy. I don’t know if it’s because he never got to experience it on its basest level, sibling rivalry. Or it may be because he is clueless about why anyone would envy him. “He was jealous because you had it all. The girl, the great job, the respect of your Dr. Jordan.” His brow furrows. “In order for you to get security clearance, the Air Force talked to everyone you ever worked for. I read Jordan’s recommendation. I believe he referred to you as the finest research assistant he had ever had.”

“Really?” He seems to find that hard to believe. “I mean, he had Sarah and Steven.”

“And neither of them could ever be you. It must have killed Steven when you turned back up, obviously successful. I mean, rich guy suit and all.” I know how much that suit cost because Sam helped pick it out and she practically had to pry the credit card out of Daniel’s grubby little hand. “And I’m guessing Sarah forgot all about him as soon as she saw you?”

He blushes, one of the few people I know who can still accomplish that little trick. “Steven has a Porsche.”

“You can afford a Porsche, Daniel.” I let my thumb stroke his temple, trying to gentle him back into sleep.

“Oh.” It never fails to amaze me that he doesn’t realize he earns more than 99% of the people on this base. You can’t tell by the way he acts or lives or what he drives. He isn’t driving a Porsche because it simply never occurs to him that he can.

“Now since we’re already all mushy and everything, I just have to ask.”

“’kay.” 

I grin, soften my voice as I hear his begin to slur. “Do you have to make all the Goa’ulds mad at you?”


End file.
